Of Handsome Magicians, Confusing Assemblies and Bossing People Around
by daisysyins
Summary: A nine-year-old Clara Oswald muses on her future.


**A/N – Just a quick little one-shot I wrote today while I'm on a bit of a respite from my current story **_**Position of the Stars.**_** Not very long but I hope you enjoy :)**

_Wednesday March 27__th__, 1996_

_Boring day – like always. I don't understand why only all the teachers have to be in charge and tell everyone what to do all the time. I'd be lots better at it, even though Alex-my-cousin says I'm too little to boss people about. That's not very fair, because he's only a little bit taller than I am. Well, quite a big bit actually. But most of it's his head. He's got a very tall head. I don't think it can be very accurate to measure yourself against people with very tall heads._

_I'm still the best at bossing, anyway. In Assembly today, I was the only Line Monitor in the whole of Year Four who could get all their class in line, **and**_ _stop them talking, before Miss Griffin blew her big silver whistle. So 4A (which is our class) got to sit on the bench at the back of the hall instead of all crumpled down on the floor like 4B and 4H. Alex-my-cousin (who's in 4B) stuck his tongue out at me when he came in and had to start crumpling down onto the floor, but I think he's just jealous. He's never been a Line Monitor, of course. Line Monitors never stick their tongues out at anyone, not even if the anyone does it first._

_Assembly stayed being quite good fun, actually (even after Mr Brook came and told me that Clara-Line-Monitors-have-to-be-quiet-too-and-don't-make-silly-faces, which was a bit silly of **him**, because I was just trying to do my job and keep Alex-my-cousin in line). It's usually nearly as boring as Maths, because it's just Miss Griffin standing at the front and telling us stuff, really loudly so we know no one else is in charge. I'm not really sure what sort of stuff she tells us. I don't like her very much, so I don't normally listen. Actually, I don't that much even when it isn't Miss Griffin. I think it's a bit daft when it's all just other people talking. I'd rather it was my go._

_Today, though, someone came in to do a talk for us: a big, tall policeman, with a shiny hat and a shiny vest and a shiny face. I maybe wouldn't normally have listened to him much either, but he was very funny, and he had a little puppet of a dog that was wearing an even shinier hat, which he stuck his hand up into like a glove and made it tell us stuff like Miss Griffin (I don't think he can be one of the sciency policemen you get on the news). Dogs aren't allowed to be in charge though, I don't think, it's against the law or something, and he **was**_ _a policeman, so I did start listening then. He was talking to us about all the different jobs there were, and which ones we wanted to do when we were grown up._

_And just because you are my diary, and I think it's also probably against the law to lie to your diary: it was all a bit surprising, even for a Line Monitor. I hadn't realised grown-ups had to decide on their own what work they wanted to do. I thought they were all just sort of born doing it; born teachers and firemen and office-people. I s'pose it did make sense, though. It might have been a bit awkward at the hospital sometimes, with two doctors in the room._

_Trouble is, even though the policeman was ever so funny, and even let all our class on the bench try on his big shiny hat, he didn't really explain **how** you find out what job it is you want to do. So no one really had any more idea after Assembly, even the Line Monitors. Well, Joel-in-my-class says he wants to be a policeman now too, but I think he just wants a big shiny hat to keep covering his new haircut._

_I suppose I might want to be a policeman too. I bet they get to boss people around, even Miss Griffin. **And**__ they wear big shiny hats. But then the criminals might be not very fair like Alex-my-cousin, and not know about tall heads not being accurate things to measure by, so maybe not. _

_All the jobs he told us about looked a bit dull, if I'm honest. I'm not really sure I'd want to be any of them very much – but then I don't know what else I could be. When I told Gran about it after school, she said, 'Oh, you'd rather marry a handsome prince and run off to live in a castle instead then, would you?' I love Gran a lot, but she does say silly things sometimes. I think that sounds boring too. I don't want to have a handsome prince. All they seem to do is love the princesses, and follow them around making sure they don't get into any trouble. I think I'd miss trouble quite a lot if I had to have that done to me._

_I might like to meet a handsome **magician**, though, if I was going to be in a fairy-tale. The magicians in fairy-tales are **always**_ _the best, even the bad ones. Even the ones that never ever do what they're supposed to, and get banned from the kingdom at the end. Actually, **especially**_ _the ones that never ever do what they're supposed to. I bet they get into loads of trouble, and probably never ever stop talking either. I'd love to run off with a magician like that._

_That's what I'm going to do when I'm grown up, then. I've decided. As long as I'm in charge, of course. And if there isn't any actual running. Gran told me running off with someone is something called a figure of speech, and there isn't any real running like Mr Brook makes us do in PE, and I seriously hope she isn't wrong about that like she was about the date of Roman Day last month (Gran's wrong about a lot of things. Mum says it's because she's getting old. It looks rubbish, if you ask me. I'm never going to get old like Gran), because I don't actually really like historical costumes, or running. But I s'pose I do like magicians, and trouble, and talking, so maybe it would be OK anyway._

_I would definitely still have to be in charge, though._


End file.
